


Bow Down

by ZenyZootSuit



Category: Kingdom Netflix, 킹덤 | Kingdom (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF!Chang, Copious Amounts of Sass, Fighting, Gratuitous Smut, Hate Sex, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenyZootSuit/pseuds/ZenyZootSuit
Summary: Beom-il's first mistake was underestimating the prince. His second mistake was also underestimating the prince.
Relationships: Cho Beom-il/Prince Lee Chang
Comments: 18
Kudos: 74





	Bow Down

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this. I didn’t even make an attempt at a plot. It’s just smut that I wrote and edited in the span of a day. Cheers. 
> 
> Note that this has NOTHING to do with violence in its many forms. Not a damn thing. 
> 
> Kudos and credit where it is due to the thirst channel on the Kingdom discord server.

“It’s good to see you well, commander. Tell me, how _is_ your shoulder?”

The sneer in the prince’s voice was _unbearable,_ Beom-il just _seethed._ Clucking his tongue, he replied coolly, “It was only a graze, your Highness. It’s healing nicely.”

The prince smirked where he sat cross legged at his desk, somehow still managing to look down his nose at Beom-il. “I’m glad to hear it, I was quite concerned. It’s truly not every day you hear a commander in the army doesn’t believe someone has a gun until—“ the prince lost his composure for the briefest of moments, only half biting off a snort of laughter. “—until he got shot with it.”

“So glad I could provide entertainment for your Highness,” the commander hissed, imagining the prince getting shot instead.

The prince cleared his throat and turned back to his work, a bit of mirth still visible on his face. “Now, for why I called you here.”

Beom-il raised an eyebrow.

“You and your guards have been sloppy as of late.”

“In what way?”

The prince put down his calligraphy brush, frowning deeply as he regarded Beom-il. “Four times, not once, twice nor thrice, but _four_ times in the past two weeks I have observed palace guards at work inebriated. Guards standing in the halls and at the palace gates _reeking_ of alcohol. I should have all of them and you thrown in prison! Is there _any_ discipline in your organization? Do you have any idea what that looks like for the palace? For the dynasty?”

_Oh, about the same as having a bastard in line to the throne I should reckon._

The prince gaped at him, wide eyed and stunned, before ordering the guards from the room, absolutely _furious._

Beom-il…hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud.

Door shut behind the guards, the prince stood up so quickly his desk skidded forward a few inches. He took several long strides to stand directly in front of Beom-il andslapped him across the face hard enough to knock him over. The commander’s cheek stung and he tasted blood in his mouth as the prince snarled at him.

“ _What_ makes you think _you_ can speak to the Crown Prince that way? You? A mere _commander_ in the army? You may be the son and heir of Cho Hak-ju but that is the _only_ thing you have to your name! And, clearly, that hasn’t gotten you very far.”

Beom-il saw red.

Looking back on it, he wasn’t entirely sure who had started the fight (it was probably him but he would deny it in court). Whoever started it, it didn’t really matter, because one minute they were standing there and the next the were grappling and beating the _shit_ out of each other.

His father regularly ordered the family to pay difference to the Crown Prince and the King, reminding them to keep up appearances until their day came and power would be theirs. As such, his father would beat him bloody if he saw this, no matter what the prince had said.

All the same in this instance, Beom-il didn’t really give a shit.

And so we come to Beom-il’s first mistake, which was underestimating the prince.

The prince was a _dirty_ fighter. Scratching, yanking at Beom-il’s tunic, shoving. The commander would never admit that the prince got a few decent hits on him. Eventually though, Beom-il got sick of it and started hitting back. He caught the prince hard across the face with the back of his hand, splitting his lip. The prince disengaged briefly, starting at him with shock plain on his face.

Beom-il’s cock twitched. Much to his distaste, the prince looked _delicious_ with blood on his face.

Distracted for a brief second, the prince hit him right back and their struggle renewed. And…somewhere between twisting his hands in the prince’s robes to keep him from _kneeing_ him again and trying to keep the much taller man from getting ahold of his leg and throwing it over his head, the prince’s tongue ended up down his throat.

And the prince could _kiss_. He kissed just as filthily as he fought, all tongue and teeth in the best way possible, his hands twisted tightly in Beom-il’s collar. The commander returned it, heat flaring in his gut as he bit at the prince’s plush lips, tasting blood from the split.

The prince broke off after a while, a nasty smile on his face. “I thought that was you I saw soliciting that palanquin carrier —who, by the way, anyone who knows anything knows is actually a male prostitute— out by the commandery last month.”

Beom-il glared, but said nothing.

“Who knew the only male heir to the Cho clan prefers his own sex,” he went on with a smirk. “Wouldn’t your father find that _interesting_.”

Beom-il seethed. “As he would the similar information that so do _you_.”

“A fair point. But there’s no way he finds that out about that without this—“ his hand closed around Beom-il’s cock, making the commander’s breath catch harshly in his throat. “Coming out too.”

Beom-il snorted, baring his teeth. “ _Blow me,”_ he snarled.

The prince’s eye glinted strangely before, to Beom-il’s utter shock, he dropped to his knees. He had the commander’s pants tugged down and his mouth around his cock before Beom-il could even _begin_ to formulate a response. He hissed sharply, hand gripping the back of the prince’s head as he sucked him like a professional.

“You’ve done this before,” he got out from between clenched teeth.

The prince looked up at him, eyes still managing to look dangerous even with his mouth stuffed full of cock.

_If his face looked good with blood on it, it’d look even better soaked in tears._

He let out a harsh breath and, hand tightening in the prince’s hair, thrust hard into his mouth. And surprisingly, the prince let him do it, teeth grazing along Beom-il’s length in warning whenever he fucked in too rough. Reminding him that even in this, the prince still had the upper hand. Beom-il fucking _hated_ it.

Pleasure and fury curled low in the commander’s belly in a potent mix, threatening to end this little exercise far too quickly and he yanked the prince off him by the hair. He wanted to draw this out.

He forced the royal’s head back and the prince met his gaze. He licked his lips, teeth catching on his bottom lip. Beom-il bit the inside of his cheek hard against the swell oflust that evoked.

“I want you on you back,” he growled, voice rough. “I’m going to make you _cry_.”

And so we come to Beom-il’s second mistake, which was, again, underestimating the prince.

One minute, Beom-il was manhandling the prince onto his back on the wood floor, climbing between his spread thighs and the next he was staring up at the ceiling with the prince settling heavily over his hips, pinning his wrists to the floor.

And his only question was _who the fuck_ taught the prince how to wrestle?

“Oh no,” the prince drawled, a lazy smirk on his face. “I think it’s going to be quite the other way around.

And then he was grinding his ass back against Beom-il’s throbbing cock and the commander hadn’t the faintest idea how to respond. All further thought fled his mind when the prince reached for a small jar on his desk and coated his fingers in a thick, slick substance. Shoving his pants down over his thighs and hiking up his robes, he reached behind himself and Beom-il’s mouth went dry. Soon, much quicker than the commander was expecting, he was slicking up Beom-il’s cock and sinking down onto him.

The commander let out a low groan, holding the prince tightly by the hips. The prince’s breath stuttered as his ass met the tops of Beom-il’s thighs.

“Don’t come too fast,” he murmured cheekily.

Beom-il’s mouth twitched. “Bet,” he hissed, grip tightening on hips to the point he hoped would leave bruises.

The prince looked him dead in the eye as he braced his hands on Beom-il’s chest and rolled his hips once and _ohh_ that was good...

From there, the only sound in the room was that of their harsh breathing as the prince rode him _hard_.

_Who knew the soft, proper prince would be so good at sex_ , the commander thought, gritting his teeth against the bolts of pleasure shooting up his spine with each rock of the prince’s hips. Though it was increasingly obvious the prince was neither soft nor proper when he wanted to be.

_He was fucking made for this..._

But like hell if Beom-il was going to let him win.

Biting his cheek hard, he caught the prince and suspended his hips in mid air, interrupting his rhythm and apparently catching the prince off guard, given the surprised look on his face. The commander smirked up at the other man and, planting his feet on the ground, thrust up.

The prince unbalanced a bit, having to catch himself on his hands behind Beom-il’s head. The commander used this newfound range of motion to drive in hard and fast, punching the breath out of the prince’s lungs. The royal didn’t protest, soft, high pitched moans escaping his throat as Beom-il absolutely _railed_ him, pleasure slackening his fine face.

The commander couldn’t resist scratching at him just a little.

“Who knew,” he panted. “That the Crown Prince moans like a common whore.”

The prince’s eyes flashed and he clenched down hard around Beom-il, forcing a loud groan out of the commander.

“Yes,” he gasped, rolling his hips back to meet Beom-il’s thrusts and drawing a few more undignified sounds out of him. “Who knew.”

Both men came quickly after that, the pace too hard and fast for either to draw it out as much as they might have liked. In the end, Beom-il wasn’t entirely sure who came first. All he remembered was coming hard inside the prince, vision whiting out with the force of his orgasm as the prince continued to rock his hips, moaning prettily as his come-covered hand stroked his cock.

_Damn._

They both stayed where they were as they came down from their highs, riding out the last few sparks of pleasure. After they had caught their breath, it was the prince who moved first.

“Thanks,” he said with a smirk —as if Beom-il had provided him with some sort of _service_ — and got off him, straightening his robes and walking back over to his desk like Beom-il hadn’t just fucked the life out of him. The commander grinned though upon seeing the slight stagger in his step and the way he almost gingerly sat down.

He hoped the prince would feel it for days.

Beom-il stood up himself, righting his own clothes. “I don’t see why either of our fathers should become aware of this,” he offered, a part of him slightly concerned that the prince would be vindictive enough to see it got back to Cho Hak-ju that his precious only son spent more time in the company of men than he did women. Though, another part of his mind reminded him, the prince is in a precarious political position. He couldn’t afford to risk the ramifications.

The royal glanced up at him, hand pausing where he’d been writing. After a moment, he inclined his head.

Beom-il turned on his heel and left, decidedly without bowing.

_Like hell if he would bow to someone he just fucked._

“Commander,” the prince called after him.

Beom-il paused.

“Just so we’re clear: if you ever speak to me like that again I’ll see to it that every eunuch in the palace hears how much you love having those strapping young new recruits fuck you over your desk in your office on weeknights. And how much you just _love_ sucking their cocks.”

Beom-il spun around. “That’s not true,” he snarled. “I’ve never touched a single one of my men!”

The prince snorted. “It doesn’t really matter if it’s true or not, does it? Because the eunuchs don’t know that…nor do they really care, I’ve found. And we all know that once a eunuch hears a rumor, well, it _never_ goes away.”

Beom-il stormed out and slammed the door behind him, the prince’s shit-eating grin burned into the back of his eyelids.

_One day. One day I’ll get one on you._

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this has no connection whatsoever to Violence In Its Many Forms. My Chang in that fic is a virgin, my Chang in this fic is clearly not. Let’s just say him and the younger scholars got up to some fun. Hehe
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know what you think!


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